


Blast

by Tamsydoodles



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamsydoodles/pseuds/Tamsydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bombing at Headquarters forces several extremely stubborn people to examine their priorities.</p><p>
  <i>"You know, Captain, it helps if you talk to him."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blast

Fuery really shouldn’t have been surprised that Riza stood up when the doctor asked for next of kin. It should have occurred to him long before that, but Roy’s aunt sat in the corner of the waiting room, puffing on a cigarette, and Fuery had assumed that she would stand as well. He’d admonish himself for it later.

As she passed him, Fuery noticed the heavy bags under her eyes and the slight hunch in her back. The rest of them had been able to doze fitfully in the waiting room chairs for a few hours at a time over the night or slip away to the barracks and collapse on a bunk, but he hadn’t seen her close her eyes for more than a few seconds, and no one - not even the infamous Chris Mustang herself - had been able to convince her to leave the waiting room at all. No, the only person capable of convincing Riza Hawkeye to rest before she dropped of exhaustion lay on the operating table, fighting for his life.

She spent the short conversation pale and tight-lipped, nodding every so often in a slow, understanding manner that made the entire room hold its breath.

“He’s alive,” she said as the doctor left, looking notably unsteady on her feet, “but he reacted strangely to the anesthesia. He’s fallen into a coma. They don’t know when he’ll wake up.”

An unspoken if lay think in the air, choking everyone’s lungs halfway like cigarette smoke. Chris heaved herself out of her chair, shouldering past Fuery to give Riza’s shoulders a soft squeeze (Her foster son did the same thing, Fuery realised, whenever Hawkeye was lying about her nightmares).

“Don’t you worry, Captain,” Chris muttered, “Roy-boy’s a fighter, and he’s going to be just fine. You and I both know how much he enjoys sleeping in.”

She paused to move her arm under Riza’s shoulders, supporting the exhausted woman in a way that surprised Fuery more than it should have, mostly for the notable lack of protest from Riza herself. 

“Now, why don’t you come on down to my place and take a nice, hot shower? I’m sure my girls would be more than happy to lend you some clothes while we wash out that uniform of yours.”

Riza looked down at herself, as if surprised to see the dust and dried blood staining the navy blue. Fuery suspected that wash out was code for throw away, since even if the stains could be washed out, there were several large tears in the jacket that he seriously doubted could be repaired. The doctors had released her quickly after she and Mustang were brought in - a few cuts and bruises and some dehydration, but altogether unharmed. The General, unfortunately, was a different story.

“He’d be quite upset to wake up to his right-hand woman looking like that,” Chris continued softly, squeezing her hand gently, “He’d probably blame his old aunt for not taking care of her, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Ever so slowly, Riza nodded, and Chris led her out of the room, murmuring softly, as if comforting a wounded animal. 

“I’ll take first watch,” Havoc muttered, sticking a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his lighter in his right hand absentmindedly, “Go get some rest.”

Fuery pulled back the sleeve of his dress shirt to check his watch, “I should call Sheska and apologize for standing her up. I’ll be back to relieve you at 1700.”

The blonde lieutenant chuckled dryly, looking over at the disappearing figures of Riza and Chris before nodding at Fuery, “She’s going to want to sit with him.”

“She’s blaming herself,” Fuery replied, sighing “He’ll be mad at her when he wakes up.”

“That’s his problem,” Havoc shoved his hands into his pockets, “She’s got more reason to be mad than he does. This habit of being a human shield is going to backfire on him someday.”

He bid the rest of them farewell and set off down the hall, stopping only briefly to confirm Mustang’s location with a passing doctor.

.

“Jean!”

A young, curly haired nurse had just turned the corner into the hallway, her walk quickening when she saw the man standing outside the door, heels clicking against the tile in a way that did not altogether agree with Havoc’s headache, “I just heard! Mary’s switching around my shifts as we speak. The doctors are saying about fifty-fifty at this point.

“Thanks, Cassandra,” Havoc said, grateful for the sudden appearance of Breda’s fiance despite the noise her shoes made. He wasn’t sure how his dork of a best friend had managed to snag such a nice lady, but having someone on the inside was useful, “You’re a gem.”

“How’s Captain Hawkeye taking it?” she asked, dropping her voice and stepping closer to Havoc, resting her hand on his elbow. He grimaced, disliking the mix of concern and pity in her green eyes but unable to disagree with the look.

“Roy’s aunt managed to get her away from the hospital, so that’s a good sign, at least. She’ll probably be back soon anyway - I’m trusting you to extend visiting hours indefinitely.”  
She nodded, “Of course. Let me go check if Mary’s done rearranging. I’ll bring you some coffee on my rounds. You look like you need it.”

He couldn’t deny that one. No one had been able to brief him until around midnight thanks to his shoddy phone line, but he had been up a full ten hours by now and he had no doubt he looked like hell had chewed him up and spit him out. Maybe Cassandra would bring him the paper too - yesterday’s would be the last for several days that wasn’t chock full of news about the blast.

Riza arrived when his coffee was around half finished and his headache had disappeared along with it. Her hair was still damp, and Roy’s sisters hadn’t been successful at covering up the bags under her eyes, but Rebecca was with her now, patting her back in gentle circles as they walked down the hallway.

“See, honey? What did I tell you. Nothing to worry about. Jean’s right here, taking good care of General Mustang. Your boys know what to do.”

Riza managed a half smile at Havoc, “I never doubt my boys.”

He felt pride surge in his chest - through all the stern looks and reprimands she dished out on a regular basis, Riza Hawkeye never gave away praise.

“Fuery’s taking the next post, Hawkeye, and Breda’s fiance is the one running the show, so you can stay as long as you need to,” he said, smiling back at her and placing a hand on her shoulder. It was one thing to see Mustang worried - he started dishing out orders like he was the Fuhrer and muttering to himself when he thought no one could hear - but Riza was a different story. He loved Riza like a sister (he bet the entire team did as well), and yet he couldn’t do a thing to help her.

Rebecca ushered Riza into the room before the shell-shocked woman could protest, pulling the door shut with a gentle thump and rubbing her temples, “She’s so quiet. I’ve seen her like this before, but that was right after Ishval. I wish I could have convinced her to sleep for a while, but she’s so out of it she’s still mostly processing what the hell just happened.”

He nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder, “Hey, you and Chris kept her out of here for two hours. That’s an accomplishment in itself.”

The scurrying of feet down the hallway distracted Rebecca before she could respond, and Jean cursed under his breath when he saw who the footsteps belonged to.

“Excuse me, could I get in? I’m with the Central Tribune, we simply cannot believe the tragedy that has occurred here. Amestris is extremely worried about their general.”

Havoc resisted a grimace, but just barely. He wasn’t a fan of the seedy-looking man or the camera dangling innocently around his neck, but that was just him and his distrust of the press.  
“No one has clearance to see General Mustang at this time, sir,” he lied, straightening his back, “You’ll have to find your scoop elsewhere.”

“Not even one little peek? Surely that can’t hurt him,” the man pressed, attempting to push Rebecca out of the doorframe.

“The man said no,” she warned, her voice deadly and flat. 

“Come on, Rebecca, there’s no need to get testy. We don’t want a repeat of what happened the last time you were charged with assault.”

She huffed and glared up at Havoc, her hands on her hips, “Not my fault if the weenie was so scared he didn’t show up in court.”

The reporter began to scurry away as quickly as he had come, looking somewhat unnerved. 

“Sorry,” he grunted as soon as the reporter was out of sight, “They’re gonna have a field day with that.”

“Nah, I’ll take one for the team,” she replied, walking down the hall, “I’ll be back in a few hours to force some food down Riza’s throat. When’re you off?”

“Five.”

.

“You know, Captain, it helps if you talk to him.”

Riza jumped, her head whipping around toward the room’s new occupant. Cassandra smiled sheepishly, closing the door softly behind her as she continued, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Riza shook her head, willing her heartbeat to slow. It wasn’t a good idea to sit with her back toward the door, but Roy’s other hand was covered so thickly in bandages that she didn’t dare touch it. Her gaze returned to the figure on the bed after a few seconds, savoring the midday sunlight that fell across him in gentle shafts through the curtains. She had watched him sleep before, but it was usually because of the fitful naps he snuck when he thought she wasn’t paying attention during the day. She had watched him sleep back after the Promised Day, too, when he couldn’t tell the difference between night and day unless the time was read to him. Something about this was eerie. Wrong. Halfway between sleep and death.

“Don’t be shy, Captain Hawkeye. We’ve done studies on it. People are more likely to emerge from comatose states if people they care about maintain presence. They rarely remember anything that’s said, but it’s been described as something that called them back.”

“We’re not especially close,” Riza lied, straightening her back and removing her hand from Roy’s before Cassandra noticed. The nurse only smiled again, busying herself with the charts at the end of his bed.

“Heymans has told me plenty of stories to suggest otherwise.The General thinks the world of you.”

Riza’s hand found its way back to his. She had forgotten about Breda’s fiance.

“I wouldn’t know what to say,” she confessed, squeezing the bruised hand ever so lightly.

“I’ll get you some books, then. There are bound to be some in the break room, if you don’t mind medical journals.”

She replaced the charts and left, leaving Riza in silence. 

“Can you hear me?” she asked finally, voice a choking whisper. She thought she say his eyelids flutter, but dismissed it to fantasy as she brushed his hair to the side. She was getting her hopes up, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

“You’re far too reckless for your own good, you know,” she continued softly, ignoring the hitches in her voice, “You should have saved yourself, you moron.”

Her words were met only by the beeping of the machines, but she continued on, voice growing stronger the more she talked. The door opening behind her went unnoticed by the sniper (she’d feel ashamed of it later), but Cassandra didn’t need more than an eye inside the room to know that the few books she had scavenged up were unnecessary.

“You need a haircut,” Riza chuckled, trying to alleviate the weight pressing against her chest, reaching up for the second time in as many minutes to brush his hair out of his eyes, “Remind me when you wake up.”

When. Dear god, it had to be when.

“Chris will be here in a few minutes,” she whispered, straightening the blankets that covered the lower half of his body, struggling to maintain her calm facade, “She’ll be much better at this than I am.”

She paused to look at her superior, eyes resting on bandage after bruise after cut before looking at his face, day old stubble shadowing his chin in the way she knew he hated. He’d never been a fan of facial hair. It hid his rugged good looks and stunning bone structure, according to him. 

“I think they’re talking more about me than they are about you. Serves me right, huh? God, I’m pathetic, aren’t I? Everyone knows it. That entire time you were in surgery, I was trying to figure out-”

Her voice broke off in a sudden hitch, no longer able to continue around the lump in her throat. She blinked a few times, willing her breath to stay steady and trying to clear her eyes. The tear that hit her cheek a moment later served as a cruel indicator of just how unsuccessful she was.

“I was trying to figure out how to live without you,” she finished, tears rolling down her cheeks freely, “But I don’t know if I can. It’s been too long, I think I’ve forgotten how.”

“I know I’m being selfish. I’m sorry. No matter what happens, I know I need to keep moving forward,” her back hunched, eyes focused on his hand, lest the bruises on his face renew the tears, “What a sorry excuse for a bodyguard I turned out to be. A bomb comes along and you end up protecting me from it, you idiot.”

“Don’t you know how much you mean to the team? To the country?” she paused before adding the next few words, resting her hand on his chest to feel the sluggish heartbeat, “To me?”

“Please come back, Roy,” she said, startling herself with the use of his given name. She could count the times she had called him Roy on her fingers - before Ishval, it had been Mister Mustang for years and years. After, it had always been sir. There had never been a time that she had been free to call him whatever she pleased.

She wondered briefly if he would choose Riza over Hawkeye, but disregarded the thought before she could dwell on it. There likely would never be a time they would be able to choose anyway. No sense in living in fantasy.

A breeze from the open window made her shiver, but she didn’t stand to close it. Fatigue swept over her in a sudden wave, and Riza fought to keep her eyes from drooping for want of sleep, “You can’t afford to keep being so reckless, you know. It’s going to get you into trouble one of these days, you mark my words, and you’re far too important to go risking your life willy-nilly.”

“Please stay with me.”

.

“Riza, honey, let’s get you some-” Rebecca froze, her voice dropping from its false, boisterous tone when she saw the blonde woman in question with her head in Mustang’s lap, chest rising and falling slowly in sleep.

Mustang, however, was awake, propped up to an awkward half-sitting position with his hand stroking Riza’s hair softly. He paused, raising his finger to his lips and winking at Rebecca, but Riza didn’t stir. 

Riza collapsed against the doorframe, smiling, as she would later say, like an absolute moron, “God, don’t you dare tell me that it was true love’s kiss that woke you up.”

Roy rolled his eyes, unable to contain his grin as he caught a glimpse of an absolutely ecstatic Fuery waving at him before Rebecca closed the door behind her, “No, I did that part by myself. She definitely had a part in it, though.”

Rebecca tossed her hair over her shoulder as she crossed the room, leaning against the wall across from the bed. The final minutes of twilight dappled the room with a rosy glow, and Rebecca knew just how hard Fuery was trying to stay awake on the other side. She pitied the kid - without sleep meds, he couldn’t shut his brain off unless he had absolutely nothing to worry about, and by the time he had finished apologizing to his girlfriend, he hadn’t had time to take any.

“Have you ever just listened to her talk?” Mustang muttered, redirecting his attention back to the sleeping woman on his lap, “I should fall into a coma more often.”

Rebecca chuckled, folding her arms across her chest in a way that would no doubt wrinkle the dress she was wearing, “If you weren’t so banged up already, I’d smack you for suggesting that idea. I haven’t, though. Never been able to get a story all at once. Besides, she’s the only person who puts up with my ranting.”

“Patience of a saint,” he agreed, cracking what he obviously hoped was a charming smile. The bruises that peppered his face around the swelling, however, made it a little more difficult. Rebecca had to award him on effort, though, “Besides, I can think of a certain smoker who might beg to differ.”

“Madame? Nah, she hates all of my crap,” Rebecca countered, hoping to avoid discussing the soldier Mustang was implying, “So, how are you feeling?”

Roy grimaced, “Like a bus ran over me. Several times.”

“Tends to happen when you’re buried under rubble for several hours.”

He blinked a few times, trying to gauge her comment, “Hours? Jesus, how long was I out?”

“You don’t remember any of it?” Rebecca sucked air in through her teeth, trying to calculate it mentally, “More than 24 hours, at least. The blast happened at about four, and we didn’t find you two until eight, so if you were out for most of that, it’s been about twenty eight hours by now. This has been the first time I’ve seen Riza asleep.”

Roy whistled softly, glancing down at his subordinate, “She’s going to be pissed at me when she wakes up.”

“She’ll probably forgive you pretty quickly if you kiss her,” Rebecca said, shrugging and inspecting the chipped nail polish on her right hand, “She has no idea how to react to that kind of stuff. I can’t even remember the last date she went on.”

“She’s my subordinate, Catalina!” Roy protested, cheeks coloring pink below the black-and-purple bruises.

“Yeah, and she’s also so head over heels for you she can’t tell which way is up,” Rebecca said, saluting casually as she left the room, “Just an option.”

He winced at the slam of the door - Rebecca knew just how light of a sleeper Riza was, so chances were she knew exactly what she was doing. It was a miracle she had made it through the conversation without stirring - maybe he would be able to sit with her in peace a little longer.

She groaned softly, eyes tightening. His hand froze on the nape of her neck, willing her to settle back down into unconsciousness. No such luck. Her eyes fluttered open and she realised where she was almost instantly (which he thought was a shame, since she looked incredibly cute half-awake), and bolted upright, cheeks a light shade of pink. 

“General Mustang! You’re awake!” 

He had to stifle a laugh at the look on her face, but he knew he couldn’t stop to savor it. If he wanted to avoid the storm brewing in her eyes, he had to act fast. 

Unfortunately, it struck him suddenly that he had no idea what to say.

“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly, reaching up with his good hand to scratch the back of his neck and braving a small shrug that sent pain shooting through his shoulders and torso. That was the best he could muster? Some casanova he was. 

“What the hell do you mean, sorry?” she asked, voice strained. Her fists curled and uncurled, leaving half moons where her fingernails dug into the skin of her palms, “You idiot!” You can’t go throwing yourself over subordinates whenever you think they’re in danger! That’s going to got you killed, and what then? Where do all your goals go? Nowhere! They die with you!”

Her tone had turned biting, and she wasn’t meeting his eye, choosing instead to glare out the window at the shadowy street below.

“I know I put you through a lot of pain. I’m sorry,” he said, reaching with his good hand to grab one of her wrists. She yanked her arm out of his grasp before he could continue. She wasn’t ready for apologies yet.

“Don’t you dare. You’re not sweet talking your way out of this one.”

He couldn’t decide if he missed the quiet, talkative Riza of a few hours before. At least she wasn’t crying now.

“You reckless moron. Don’t you ever do that again. You even dragged Chris into this. She risked exposure to come down and watch your sorry ass and all you can manage is an empty apology.”

“Riza.”

She stopped, caught off guard by the use of her given name, but continued on when he didn’t say anything else, finally meeting his eyes with fire.

“We spent four hours trapped in that rubble. It was pitch black and you kept phasing in and out of consciousness, screaming about Ishval. I thought I had lost you because you were dumb enough to cover me instead of saving yourself. I thought I was going to have to watch you die.”

His throat blocked up, and he found he couldn’t swallow around the lump. Riza’s lip was quivering despite being pressed tightly against her top lip to avoid it, and her honey eyes threatened tears again.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, whispering to talk, “I heard the blast and all I could think about was you.”

“Why the hell-” her voice cracked as she wiped her eyes furiously, “would you care about me? There are far more important things.”

His eyes spilled over first, recalling her confessions when she thought he couldn’t hear, “I don’t think I could live without you. It’s been too long. I’ve forgotten how.”

She froze, cheeks again wet and mouth hanging open ever so slightly. He dared lean forward ever so slightly, ignoring the pain in his side and the groaning aches in his shoulders, curling his left hand around the nape of her neck again and pulling her closer to him.

“What-” she managed before their lips met, desperate and wet with salt. 

She pulled away, flushed red, back to staring out the window, “Don’t you think that makes this any better!”

He reminded himself to give Rebecca a good right hook next time he saw her.

“Please, Riza,” he said, reaching for her wrist again. She didn’t pull away this time. “I’m sorry. I know I acted selfishly and I caused you a lot of pain, but you mean more to me than anything else in the world. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”

She wiped her cheeks furiously with her sleeve, “Don’t you ever let that happen again.”

He smiled, moving his hand to her chin and wiping her cheek dry gently, “No promises. I like listening to you talk.”

“You could hear me?”

“You think I’d miss a conversation where you called me Roy?” he chuckled, savoring the gentle, timid touch of her hands on his chin as her cheeks flushed even deeper. He leaned in again, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to apologise.

**Author's Note:**

> write something that _isn't_ cliche? Why would I ever do that?


End file.
